


Part of your world

by justonemoremiraclesherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Human John, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merman Sherlock, Romance, no really so much fluff it hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justonemoremiraclesherlock/pseuds/justonemoremiraclesherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, you expect me to believe that you're actually a merman, and that you made a deal with an evil sea wizard so you could learn more about humans?"</p><p>'Yes'</p><p>"... Fair enough. I've heard strangest things, actually. So, would you like to, I don't know. Go sightsee? You'd probably like that, what with 'wanting to get the whole human experience' and all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is for the 'Letswritesherlock' challenge on Tumblr.   
> If you want to see a super amazing (HA) graphic made by me, based on this fic, feel free to go to my tumblr and take a look: justonemoremiraclesherlock.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fic

Atlantica. A stunning underwater city, overseen by the _almighty_ King Mycroft; a place for all mermaids and mermen to converge in peace. Impressive. Reclusive.

_And so incredibly dull._

Sherlock swam away from the palace, careful not to be spotted by the guards. He felt trapped, every day the same tedious routine, the same uninteresting faces. It was made worst by Mycroft, his older brother, who insisted he was to stay nearby the city at all times, determined on keeping him safe.

He didn't want safe. He wanted adventures, to explore unknown places, every corner on the vast sea, and beyond.

But most of all, he wanted to explore the surface, the human world.

He had heard stories about it; about people with _legs_ instead of a tail, people who lived their lives so differently from his own kind. People who were free to do as they pleased, who most likely weren't being constantly watched.

He had found a wrecked ship once, in one of his midnight escapades. It had probably sunk because of the storm that had taken place a few days before. He had explored it and found a great amount of human artifacts. Even more, he had found books, so many kinds of books, and he had spent days reading them all, learning about their world; about science, and philosophy, and their customs. It had been fascinating.

Since then, he had been hoping to find another ship, eager to collect more human treasures. But of course, he hadn't taken them back to the city; he couldn't risk it. Mycroft would be furious if he found out. Instead, he had found a small cavern, far away from watchful eyes, where he had kept his small collection.

But he wanted more, oh, _he wanted so much more_. He wanted to be one of them, he wanted to be _human_.

He would give everything for merely a day in the human world. To walk nearby the shore, to feel the warm sand on his feet, to meet other people. To explore their world and find more books, and learn more about their culture.

He was already far enough from the palace, wondering about someplace nearby he had yet to explore, when he stopped on his tracks. He looked upwards and saw a shadow looming over him, and a strange, muffled noise reached his ears.

There was something about it, it was-

A ship.

And not a wrecked ship, like the one he had found all those months ago. This one was still sailing.

He felt his heart hammering loudly inside his chest. He could do it. He could go to the surface, careful not to be seen, and take a peek. No harm done and Mycroft would never find out.

-

There was a man.

There were a lot of men, in fact, but there was one in particular that caught his attention.

He was of an average height, with dirty blond hair and sharp blue eyes. Curious, he got a bit closer, always careful to stay out of sight. Objectively, there should be nothing interesting about the man; he seemed ordinary, just as the rest of them. But there was _something_ about him; he couldn't quite place his finger on it.

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize he had been staring at his smile -and the way his eyes lit up when he did so- for almost a full minute.

That was not good.

He knew it was irrational, yet he couldn't stop staring at him. He looked so carefree, so _happy_. He felt a small ache on his chest, wanting nothing more than to be there, right next to him, and leave behind his current life.

A foolish notion.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a familiar noise, and a shiver run down his spine.

A storm.

Rain started to pour down and he hurried to back away from the ship. He submerged again, but remained close enough to the surface to keep an eye on it. He didn't become aware of how strong the waves had got until he heard a scream, and saw a body hitting the water a few meters away from him, slowly sinking down.

It was _him_.

He stared at the man's figure in shock, slightly unsure. Should he help him? The thought of swimming away and letting him there to drown didn't sit well with him, but the risk of helping him out...

Was it worth it?

-

He laid the human on the sand and rolled him onto his back. There seemed to be no one nearby, but he knew the ship would probably be back soon.

He looked down at the man again and couldn't help but trace his thumb over his cheek, a small reassurance that he was truly safe.

"You will be fine. You need to be fine."

He saw the man's eyelids fluttering and he knew he was about to regain consciousness. He should get going, he couldn't risk being seen. He had been reckless enough already, and it had gotten quite late during his rescue mission.

"I'll come back. Soon," he whispered, and a second later, the man blinked himself into consciousness, his bright, blue eyes piercing right through his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, The Little Mermaid, I'm so original. The fic mostly follows the movie version, though there are some differences, mostly beause of characterization.
> 
> I'll probably post the next chapter tomorrow or on friday, at the most.
> 
> Hope everyone likes this :) Please, let me know if you see any mistakes, and constructive criticism is more than welcomed, as always x


	2. The sea wizard

He swam back to the palace as fast as he could, aware that Mycroft's guards must be looking for him already. He had been gone for too long; he shouldn't have gotten so distracted. _Stupid, stupid_.

His thoughts wandered back to the man again, his mind refusing to think about anything else.

The human had closed his eyes again as soon as he'd opened them, probably trying to focus his vision, and he had used the opportunity to get back into the sea. He was certain the man would think nothing of it. It wasn't as if he had seen his tail anyways, he had merely look at his eyes and, at most, heard his voice, too. There was no reason to worry about any repercussions, he knew. Three days from now, he would be a distant memory, an illusion produced by his semiconscious state.

He couldn't say the same thing about himself, though. He knew he would never be able to forget about the encounter, about how close he had been to a human, to their world. He wanted to go back.

 _To him,_ an unhelpful voice added in the back of his mind.

He managed to enter his room without being seen, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Sherlock. So good of you to be back home."

He stilled, taking a moment to collect himself before turning around to face Mycroft.

"I didn't go too far, I see no problem-"

"Really?" Mycroft said, a tense grin appearing on his face. "How curious. The guards have been looking for you for almost two hours now, and they saw no sign of you."

"It's hardly my fault if they're complete morons. You should probably consider hiring more competent people."

Mycroft hummed, ignoring his last comment. "You see, they found quite an interesting place while searching for you."

He froze up, doing his best to keep his emotions at bay.

"They said they found a small cavern," Mycroft continued. "And you'll never guess what was inside of it."

He remained silent, dread washing over him.

Mycroft's grin faded away, his expression replaced by a bitter glare. "The cavern was filled with human artifacts. Any idea how they got there?"

"None," he whispered.

"Really?" Mycroft said. "They also mentioned they saw _someone_ carrying a human back to safety. Quite an interesting coincidence, don't you think?"

"Mycroft-"

"What in the world where you thinking?" Mycroft hissed. "I have told you, repeatedly, that humans are dangerous. How could you be so reckless-?"

"They are not!" Sherlock said. "You know nothing about them; you have no basis to-"

"You put all of us at risk. If someone had seen you, you could have been captured."

"He was unconscious and there was no one else nearby, it was perfectly safe."

Mycroft clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, now appearing calmer, he said, "The artifacts found in the cavern have been destroyed."

_No. No, no, he couldn't have-_

"You will stay in this room until further notice, and when you're finally allowed out, you will be escorted by one of the guards at all times."

"I am not your prisoner, Mycroft, you can't-"

"Yes, I can," he said. "Until you learn to behave properly, you will not leave the confinement of the city again. I'm sorry, Sherlock, but you give me no choice."

And without another glance back at him, Mycroft left.

-

He drew out a shaky breath, resting his head against the bed.

It was gone. Everything was gone.

Everything he had worked so hard for, his collection...

He clenched his fists, ignoring the lump in his throat. He had to leave. Somewhere, anywhere. He would leave. The mere thought of being locked up, of being stuck in the city, made him want to crawl up the walls.

Then, out of nowhere, a thought struck him.

He sat up, a smile forming on his face.

_Moriarty._

-

He had created a secret exit at the back of his room some time ago, in case of emergency. Escaping through the front door, no matter how late or how deserted the area was, always brought too much attention. Still, he had yet to find a way to leave the city without being seen. All exits were probably being watched by only one man, so if he was patient, he might be able to sneak out during the next shift change.

-

Half an hour later, he was swimming away from the palace, in search for Moriarty's lair.

-

While he knew its general location, he didn't know exactly where Moriarty resided. Still, how hard could it be to find?

He had been wandering for twenty minutes, when he saw something on the corner of his eye. He turned around, only to come face to face with an eel.

"Prince Sherlock, I presume?" The eel asked, eyes roaming over him.

"Who are you?"

"You can call me Moran, _sir_ ," he said, a sly smile forming on his face. "Are you looking for Moriarty?"

He clenched his jaw, giving a curt nod.

"Follow me, then."

He allowed himself a second to wonder if he was doing the right thing. Was it really wise to trust Moran? It seemed like a ridiculous thought, considering he was after Moriarty, but...

It was the only choice he had left.

He followed Moran until they reached the entrance of what looked like the mouth of a massive skeleton -a _Serpentine_ , his mind supplied-. The entrance lead to a large garden, filled with... _were those polyps_? He shuddered, unable to suppress the knot of anxiety forming in his stomach.

Finally, they went through a hallway and reached the main hall. It was a room filled with cupboards, with a big conch sitting in the middle. There was also a cauldron in the corner, surrounded by potions and some ingredients.

He tried to get closer to get a better look, but was stopped by a fierce grip on his wrist.

"It's quite rude to go through other's belongings, darling," Moriarty said.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Apologies."

Moriarty smirked. He turned to Sebastian to whisper something to him, and the eel left.

"So," Moriarty said, getting closer to him, "what can I do for you?"

"I need your help. I want..." He swallowed, looking right through Moriarty's eyes. "I want to be human."

Moriarty's smirk widened. "You've come to the right place, then. But I must warn you, darling - there are some rules you need to take into consideration."

"Of course," he nodded eagerly. "Anything."

"Listen closely, then. This is how it works: I will grant you a pair of legs and you will be able to freely roam the human world for three days. If you want to continue being human, you'll have to get a true love's kiss before the end of the third day... or you'll go back to being a merman."

"But how am I supposed to-"

"You are in love with a human, aren't you?" Moriarty asked, eyes glimmering.

"I'm not-" He cut himself off, avoiding Moriarty's eyes. "How did you know?"

"I have my ways," he answered simply. "Now, what do you say?"

He remained quiet for a moment, thinking it over.

Three days. He had to make the man fall in love with him within three days, and he would be able to stay human. It sounded simple enough, he mused. And even if he failed, he would still get to spend three days in the human world. It would be worth it.

"Do it."

"Slow down, darling, we're not done yet. You don't think I'll do this for free, do you?"

"What do you want?"

Moriarty got closer to him, their faces mere inches apart. "I want your voice."

"My voice?" He furrowed his brows. "But how am I supposed to make him-"

"That's not my problem. The deal is this: You give me your voice as an insurance. If you get your true love's kiss, you'll stay human forever. But if you don't... you'll become part of my collection."

Sherlock stilled. "Collection?"

Smiling, Moriarty turned his head towards his polyp garden. "They used to be mermen and mermaids. That's what happens when you fail at your task."

He took a deep breath. The risk was too high. He couldn't do it, he shouldn't-

He remembered Mycroft's words. He thought about his destroyed possessions, about how he wouldn't' be able to leave the confinements of the city.

If he was going to end up a prisoner, it should at least be on his own terms.

"Deal? Or no deal?" Moriarty asked.

Determined, he looked up, extending his hand to Moriarty. "Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably update on Monday, because I'm going to my aunt's for the weekend.  
> Hope everyone likes this. Please, let me know if you see any mistakes, and constructive criticism is more than welcomed, as always x


	3. Human

He opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. The first thing he felt was the warm, dry sand beneath him, and he had to close his eyes again to savour the experience.

And then he remembered.

He sat up, his body shaking in anticipation, and looked down at his legs. His _legs_. No tail, no scales.

Still trembling, he slowly got up, using the rock beside him to support himself. Careful, aware that he wasn't used to walking and that rushing would merely end up with him sprawled on the floor, he took a step forwards. And then another, and another, until he didn't need the rock anymore, though he still proceeded at a slow pace.

It was then that he realized that he hadn't only gained legs after his transformation. He reckoned he couldn't just walk around with his genitals exposed, so he looked around him for something to cover himself up. He spotted part of a sail down the shore, which probably ended up there after the storm. It would do.

He had finished wrapping it around his waist when he heard a shout, not too far away from him.

"Hey!"

Startled, he quickly turned around, the movement catching him off ward and sending him tumbling to his knees.

"Are you all right?"

He looked up and felt his breath catch in his throat. It was _him_ , the man.

He felt a small glimmer of hope. He had been slightly worried that he wouldn’t be able to find him. While he had read about the human world, he had never been in it, so he knew nothing about how large it truly was or where to find the human.

Now more focused, he paid closer attention to the man’s face and noticed how worried he looked. He opened his mouth to tell him he was all right- but nothing came out.

Oh. _Of course_.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

He shook his head no, and the man’s shoulders sagged in relief.

"Are you... Can't you talk?"

He shook his head again. This was going to get very tedious, very quickly. He would have to think about another alternative for communication.

"Don’t worry; you’ll be fine.” The man smiled. “I’m John, by the way. John Watson. Now, can you stand up?"

_John_

Nodding, he slowly got to his feet, and John caught him by the waist, helping him maintain his balance.

"It's all right, I’ve got you. Let’s go."

-

Once at the palace, John provided some clothes for him, and left him on one of the spare rooms so he could change.

He had read about clothes on the books he had found, and he'd seen a fair amount of people wearing them from when he had come up to the surface. Still, that didn't make the process any less confusing.

He was trying to figure out how the buttons worked when he heard a knock on the door.

"May I come in?"

He tried to answer but realized, once again, that he couldn't. He opened the door, instead.

"Oh, you're-" John came to a halt, noticing his unbuttoned shirt. "Do you need help?"

He nodded, gratefully.

Once John was done he asked him if he wanted something to eat, but before he could reply an idea came to him.

He raised his left hand, palm up, and used his right index finger to brush against it, from left to right.

John stared at him in confusion for a second, but then his eyes widened. "Oh, of course. Pen and paper. Give me a second."

Perfect. Now, what would be the best way to go about this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is quite short, sorry about that. Future chapters will be longer, I promise. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow or on Wednesday, at most :)  
> Please, let me know if you see any mistakes, and constructive criticism is more than welcomed, as always.  
> Enjoy x


	4. Day 1

"So, you expect me to believe that you're actually a merman, and that you made a deal with an evil sea wizard so you could learn more about humans?"

_'Yes'_

"And that the only way to stay human is by getting a true love's kiss? _From me?_ "

_'Yes.'_

"... Fair enough. I've heard strangest things, actually. So, would you like to, I don't know. Go sightsee? You'd probably like that, what with 'wanting to get the whole human experience' and all."

Sherlock smiled in response, eyes bright and full of excitement, and John couldn't help but smile in return.

They went out, at a slow pace, since Sherlock was still getting used to walking on two legs, and walked aimlessly for a while, until they reached a library. Sherlock stared at it in confusion, before signaling John if they could go inside. John merely nodded and followed him in. He gave Sherlock some space, standing a few steps behind him, and observed him while he slowly approached a tall bookshelf. He brushed his fingers over a row of books, his gaze lingering for a second or two on each one, until he stilled and took one out.

"Science?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded distractedly and opened the book, obviously eager to start reading, but he came to a halt. He raised his head, his expression a mixture of worry and confusion, and took out the patch of paper and the pencil from his pocket, scribbling something before passing it to John.

' _Is it all right if I read for a while? Only a few pages, I won't take long.'_

John looked up, surprised by the request.

"Of course," he said.

Sherlock evaluated him for a moment, before shaking his head.

_'No, we shouldn't. I would just be wasting time. I doubt you will fall in love with me in three days if you have to sit beside me and watch me read for an hour.'_

John had to bit his lower lip to repress a smile. He was still sceptical about the whole 'falling love with someone in three days' thing, but he was sure that watching Sherlock read wouldn't be counterproductive. Even if they had been together for only a couple of hours, he couldn't deny the warm feeling in his chest that came from seeing Sherlock so fascinated from everything around him, how delighted he was by the simplest things.

"You can read for as long as you'd like, and I can sit with you and read something myself. I do enjoy reading, you know? I promise you, it's fine."

Sherlock looked hesitant, but relaxed when John curled his hand around his wrist, lightly pulling him towards the nearest table.

-

Two hours later, they were back on the streets. John led them to a small cafe in front of a big park, and Sherlock asked if they could sit next to a window so he could admire the view. They spent almost an hour in there, because Sherlock had became fascinated with tea and wanted to try more flavours. John had let him, of course, because how could he say no to those pleading eyes?

Once outside, and after Sherlock had made a small list of every variety of tea available at the cafe and convinced an amused John to let him expand his knowledge by talking to the cook back at the palace, they went to the park. There was a small group of men playing close to them, and Sherlock was instantly captivated by their music.

"Would you like to dance?" John asked, extending his hand to him.

Sherlock looked thoughtful for a second, but then took his hand, although unsure of what to do afterwards. John pulled him closer, taking Sherlock's arms and wrapping them around his waist, and then curling his own around the back of Sherlock's neck.

They danced slowly, so Sherlock could get used to the rhythm, but he proved to be a quick learner. John realized he hadn't taken his eyes off him since he asked him to dance with him- or, if he was being honest with himself, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off him since he found him at the beach.

Was he actually falling in love with him? He wasn't sure. Maybe he was simply fascinated by him. No matter what he encountered, the man became instantly delighted, his attention solely focused on the new piece of knowledge in front of him. It was endearing.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Sherlock was staring back at him, probably had been for some time now. Slowly, as if afraid John would pull back, Sherlock leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving his. Then, he pressed his lips against John's.

Nothing happened.

"Sorry," John whispered against his mouth, noticing the look of disappointment on Sherlock's face. "I don't... Not yet. I'm sorry."

With a small, wistful smile, Sherlock pressed another kiss on the corner of John's mouth and let go.

_'Let's go back. It's late.'_

John simply nodded, following silently behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't upload this yesterday; I'll do my best to post the next chapter as soon as possible.
> 
> Please, let me know if you see any mistakes, and constructive criticism is more than welcomed, as always.
> 
> Enjoy x


	5. Day 2

Since yesterday had been a complete failure in regards of the 'get John to fall in love with me' plan, Sherlock decided to take a different approach today.

Last night, when they had gotten back to the palace, John had accompanied him to the guest's room and stopped him before he could get inside, gently tugging at his wrist. He had said he couldn't simply fall in love with someone, that the process required time, that a connection had to be made and the people involved had to get to know each other first. He had merely smiled at him, catching his wrist in return and giving it a light squeeze, and left.

Obviously, they didn't have time for all that. They only had two days left, so he would have to get a bit more creative to accelerate the process...

-

_'What's your favourite colour?'_

"... Seriously? This is your plan?"

_'John, this plan is both simple and efficient. I ask a question, you answer, and then you ask one yourself, and so on. It's really not that hard. Now answer.'_

John sighed, throwing his head back. "Blue."

_'See? Easy. Mine is purple, by the way.'_

"Purple?" The corner of John's lips twitched upwards.

He glared at him, poking him in the stomach with the pen. _'Hush. Go on, your turn.'_

"God, I feel like a kid," John muttered under his breath. "What do you like to do?"

_'Could you be more specific?'_

"Just, in general, Sherlock. What do you enjoy?"

He tilted his head. _'Learning. Mysteries. Your company.'_

"I hardly think the last one counts, we've only known each other for-"

He put a hand over John's mouth and scribbled something with the other. _'Don't you enjoy my company?'_

John frowned. He took Sherlock's hand in his, taking it away from his mouth, and said, "Of course I do."

_'Then what's the problem?'_

John shook his head, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Nothing. It's fine."

He looked at John's hand still entwined with his, and then back at John's face, which was now slightly redder.

"Sorry," John said, and was about to let go, but Sherlock held on tighter. John's smile turned softer, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. "Listen, why don't we go about this some other way? Let's just talk. This isn't supposed to be an interrogatory; we're getting to know each other. It should be more... intimate."

He felt something curling on his chest at John's embarrassed expression, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. But he knew he couldn't, he had to be patient. Pressuring John wouldn't help.

_'All right. You begin, then.'_

-

They spent hours talking -or, in Sherlock's case, writing-, whether it was about the small things or more serious matters.

They talked about their childhoods, in which John had openly admitted he had been properly spoiled, while Sherlock had explained how he spent his time terrorizing his parents, escaping from the castle at all times to explore its surroundings; about their relationship with their family, with John telling him how his mother had died while he was still a kid, and the strained relationship he had with his father, and Sherlock saying both his parents had died years ago, and he now had to tolerate an over protective older brother. They talked until nighttime came, about everything and nothing at all, and by the time they went to bed, John smiling brightly at him and kissing him on the cheek, Sherlock knew that there was _something_ , that they had formed a connection.

He was certain that by the end of the third day, John Watson would be in love with him. As certain as he was that he had fallen in love with him already, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be longer, I promise.  
> Please let me know what you think, if you'd like, and if you see any mistakes. Enjoy x


	6. Day 3

He woke up early, anxious to see John so they could start the day and make further progress. He knew they would make it. By the end of the day, John would kiss him and he would get to keep his legs.

He would be able to stay with John.

He was so sure, so full of hope for once, which was probably the reason why his brain completely froze when he overheard John's conversation with his butler.

"I know it's him, I would recognize his face anywhere. And that's _his voice_. Jim's the one who saved me, I'm sure of it."

Hidden behind the wall, he peeked around the corner, careful not to be seen. There, sitting on the sofa beside John, was another man, his hand resting on top of John's, a wide smile on his face.

"I want to marry him. This evening. I know he's the one I've been looking for, and I have no intention of postponing this for longer than necessary."

_No, no, no, it couldn't be, John wouldn't-_

Taking a deep breath, he made his way back to the guest's room, his mind completely blank. He sat down on the bed, hid his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, and bit his trembling lip in an effort to regain control of himself.

He had to think. This made no sense, there had to be something-

_"... and that's his **voice**."_

Moriarty.

He had to be controlling John, there was no other explanation. John was not the kind of man who would rush into a marriage, even with the man who ( _he thought_ ) had saved his life. He wanted to get to know the other person, to form a bond with them. Furthermore, he knew the predicament Sherlock was in. While he was still unsure if John had _completely_ fallen in love with him, he knew he at least liked him. He wouldn't simply forget about him because someone else came into the picture, he would at least talk to him about it, try to come up with a solution, _anything_.

He needed to figure out how Moriarty was controlling John. It had something to do with his voice, that much was obvious, but _how_...

He closed his eyes, picturing him again- well, picturing the man who Moriarty had turned into for his plan to work. And then he saw it; hanging from his neck, a small golden locket, in the form of a shell. It had to be it.

He stood up and bolted out of the room, in search for John.

The living room was empty.

_No, no, no, they couldn't be gone. John had said-_

"Mr. Homes?  Are you looking for Prince John?"

 _Yes_ , he wanted to shout, but had to resign himself with giving a harsh nod.

"Oh, everyone's gone already. The ship sailed a few minutes ago. Prince John's fiancé convinced him that it would be better to have the wedding while there was still light outside, no reason to wait."

No. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.

There was still time.

-

When he arrived at the pier, he realized there was a fact he hadn't taken into consideration.

He couldn't swim.

His encounter with Moriarty was a bit blurry, he couldn't remember much about what happened after he made the deal. However, he remembered that when Moriarty changed his tail into a pair of legs, he had managed to move upwards, if only a bit, by kicking frantically with his legs. The idea had some merit, but how would he manage to stay afloat at the same time?

He spent almost ten minutes looking around him, thinking of something that could help him, something like-

There. In the far corner of the dock, hanging from a pile, was a life ring.

Knowing that he didn't have many options available, he took it, and taking a deep breath, he jumped into the water. He held onto the life ring and started to kick. He knew it would take too long to reach the ship like this. It wasn't the most efficient method, but it would have to do.

He only hoped he wouldn't be too late.

-

John adjusted his tie one last time, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

This was the moment he had been waiting for. He was finally getting married. Furthermore, he was getting married to the beautiful man who had saved his life and who had managed to capture his heart with that lovely deep, baritone voice and those stunning blue eyes. He was trembling with excitement; he had never been so happy.

Except...

There was something not quite right. He _knew_ he felt happy, but looking at his own reflection he realized his smile looked anything but. There was something gnawing at the back of his mind, but he couldn't place his finger on it. Maybe-

He heard the music start playing and he knew it was time.

With one last, deep breath, he glanced once more at his reflection and left the room. He was probably just nervous, he thought. This was everything he'd ever wanted. There was no reason to doubt.

-

He was close, he was so close. The ship was merely a few meters away.

He heard the music and stilled for a second, before quickening his pace. He would make it. He had to.

-

"Do you James Moriarty, accept John Watson as your life mate and one true love, promising to share in all that life offers and suffers, to be there for him in times of need, to soothe him in times of pain, and to support him in all endeavours, big and small."

"I do."

"And do you John Watson, accept James Moriarty as your life mate and one true love, promising to share in all that life offers and suffers, to be there for him in times of need, to soothe him in times of pain, and to support him in all endeavours, big and small."

John's face turned to James, who was smiling widely at him, and had reached forward to take his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"Prince Watson?"

"Yes," John said, his voice strangely hoarse. "I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect the next chapter by Tuesday, or Wednesday, at most. In the meantime, enjoy my lovely 'cliffhanger'.
> 
> Please, let me know if you see any mistakes, as always. Enjoy x


	7. 'Til death do us apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence, though nothing too explicit.

"You may now seal this union with a-"

A loud noise was heard from behind, effectively cutting off the officiant.

Sherlock was standing at the end of the aisle, drenched in water, two guards holding him back.

"We apologise for interrupting your wedding, Prince Watson. We found him," one of the guards leaned his head towards Sherlock, who was trying to shake them off, "getting into the ship. We'll take care of everything; please, proceed."

Sherlock continued to thrash about, trying to break free from the guards hold. Desperate, he searched for John, and found him staring at him, an odd look on his face. He didn't seem to recognize him, he looked positively confused, but there was something... a glint in his eyes.

Somewhere, deep down, John still remembered him.

He risked a glance at Moriarty and felt his blood boil. The man looked perfectly relaxed, a sly grin on his face.

Realizing this was his only chance, he elbowed the guard on his left, effectively breaking his hold, and turned to throw a punch at the other one. He immediately bolted forward, knowing that wouldn't deter them for long, and lunged at Moriarty.

He saw a brief expression of shock pass across his face the moment his hand wrapped around the necklace, ripping it off. He felt the shell for a second, and deduced the material wasn't particularly strong. He threw it at the floor and stepped hard on it, smiling in satisfaction when he felt a light crash under his shoe.

He looked up, searching once more for John's face, but was stopped by a pair of hands grabbing him from behind. Stupid _, stupid_ , he had forgotten about the guards. He had to see John, he had to know if it had worked, if-

"Let him go."

The guards released him. He looked at John, and felt himself go weak with relief.

"Sherlock." John walked up to him, a guilty expression on his face. "I'm so sorry. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but-" He reached out, cupping Sherlock's cheek with his hand, and Sherlock couldn't help but lean into the touch. "It wasn't him who rescued me, was he? It was you."

John got closer to him, curling a hand around the nape of his neck to pull him down. He closed his eyes. This was it, he knew it. John would kiss him and then-

A sharp pain shot through him. He pushed John away, his knees buckling, and felt a strange sensation coursing through his legs.

No, not his legs.

He opened his eyes.

His tail.

He heard Moriarty's laugh from behind him. The sun had set.

"Oh, what a shame. And you were so close, too." Moriarty smiled, walking up to him and hoisting him up by the elbow. "Sorry about the commotion, Prince. I'm afraid we must leave now."

Moriarty pulled him towards the railings, and he turned one last time to look at John, who leapt forwards and grabbed his wrist, in an attempt to break Moriarty's hold off.

He was surprised, then, when instead of tugging him forward, he merely brushed his lips against his ear, whispering _'Twenty minutes'_ to him, his voice urgent.

What did he mean by that, what-

Oh.

And with a last yank from Moriarty, he was gone.

-

"You're a bit quiet, my dear. Are you all right?" Moriarty asked, turning to look at him while he dragged him further away from the ship. "Oh, of course, how silly of me. You can talk now, I'm sorry I forgot to mention it sooner."

"You're not getting away with this," he muttered. His voice was hoarse, quite understandable, he thought, considering he hadn't talked in days. "Mycroft probably knows by now, if you think he will let you-"

"Oh, I'm counting on it." Moriarty grinned, his grip in his elbow tightening fractionally. "In fact, there he is, coming towards us."

No.

He looked at where Moriarty was pointing, and he felt a pang of guilt. Mycroft looked exhausted, and the look of utter relief that appeared on his face the moment he saw he was unharmed was slightly painful.

"Let him go," where Mycroft's first words as soon as he was in front of them.

"I apologise, my King, but I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, little Sherlock here signed a contract: Three days as a human in exchange for his freedom. He will make such a nice acquisition to my collection" He smiled again, a feral look on his face. "I'm sure you know where this is going."

Mycroft's shoulders dropped. Their eyes met, and Mycroft smiled softly, his eyes never leaving his own while he spoke to Moriarty.

"Take me instead."

"No!" Sherlock exclaimed, trying to break free from Moriarty's hold. "Mycroft, have you lost your mind? You can't do that, you-"

"You're my little brother, Sherlock," Mycroft whispered. "Do you really think there's anything I wouldn't do for you?"

Before he could react, Moriarty moved forwards and cast his spell on Mycroft. He was surrounded by a yellow light, and Sherlock could see him curling himself into a ball, his whole body shaking while his body become smaller, until all was left was a tiny polyp.

He got closer to Mycroft, not even registering that Moriarty had finally let go of him.

"I'm sorry," he said. The first time he apologised to Mycroft, and he wasn't even sure his brother could understand him.

He had to pull himself back together. It would do him no good to feel sorry for himself.

Twenty minutes, John had said. He was positive he still had a bit under five minutes left, so he would have to be quick. But how?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Moriarty's voice.

"Sebastian, so nice of you to have joined us. It's a good thing, too, I wouldn't want you to miss the best part."

It was then that Sherlock realized that Moriarty was holding the King's trident in his hand, pointing it at Mycroft’s defenceless form.

"Farewell, our King."

Without thinking of the consequences, he leaped forwards and seized Moriarty's arms, effectively diverting the curse's path.

"Boss-!" Sebastian's yell was cut off by the curse blasting right through him, killing him on the spot.

Moriarty's face showed nothing but pure rage as he encircled his hand around Sherlock's neck, his grip tight enough to be uncomfortable.

"You're going to pay for that, Holmes." Moriarty's usual carefree attitude was gone. His voice was cold, and for the first time, Sherlock could appreciate how frightening he truly was.

"Am I?" He smiled. It was time. "You have no way of harming me anymore. Mycroft is essentially gone, you took away my opportunity to stay human. Do you really think killing me would achieve anything?"

Moriarty's grip tightened fractionally, and for a second, Sherlock though his plan wouldn't work, that Moriarty would simply keep squeezing until he lost consciousness; but the grip slackened a moment later, Moriarty’s expression turning into one of triumph.

"Are you sure there's nothing left? So you wouldn't mind if I paid a visit to Johnny boy up there?"

He tried his best to look shocked, but he knew it didn't matter. Moriarty was for too gone by now, he wouldn't see through his lie. "No. Leave John out of this."

"I'm going to kill him," Moriarty whispered, "and I'm going to make you watch."

-

John rested his forearms on the railing, looking down at the sea, where Moriarty had disappeared with Sherlock.

Twenty-two minutes had passed now, and still Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.

He knew his message had been cryptic enough, but he didn't have much time. Sherlock was smart, he knew. He would understand.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Sherlock suddenly appeared right below him.

"John, Moriarty is-"

A second later Moriarty made his appearance, a hand curled around the railing to hoist himself up, while the other one shot up to clutch John's wrist.

"Hello, Johnny. Did you miss us?"

With a hard yank at his arm, John was pulled forward, over the railing, and he landed on the water beside Sherlock. He tried to swim away, to get some distance from the ship, knowing his plan wouldn't work otherwise, but Moriarty quickly caught up to him. He fisted a hand on his hair, roughly bending his head back, and placed the trident on his throat.

He saw Sherlock trying to get closer to them, probably to try to stop Moriarty. Their eyes met, and as subtly as he could, he signaled Sherlock to stop, to get away.

"What are you going to do? Poke me to death?" He tried to smile, but groaned in pain when the trident pressed harder against his throat, a trail of blood running down his collarbone.

"I'm going to blow you to pieces," Moriarty said.

"Doesn't sound too scary, if you ask me."

"No," Moriarty whispered, their faces mere inches apart. "You're right."

The trident left his throat, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Then, a split second later, it came charging back at him, piercing right through his left shoulder-

Just as a harpoon caught Moriarty on the back of his head, the end sticking out of his forehead.

Moriarty's grip on his hair disappeared, and he slowly went under, barely aware of Sherlock's scream in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I am so good with action. And suspense. Oh, yes, look at this chapter, it's amazing.  
> Please don't kill me, I tried.  
> Last chapter will be up tomorrow (No excuses. I'm really sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter!).  
> Please let me know if you see any mistakes. Enjoy x


	8. Forever after

Sherlock watched as the ship sailed back to the palace.

He took deep breaths, trying to stay calm. John would be all right, he knew. He had talked to not only the guards, but also with John's doctor, and he had assured him the wound had been, mostly, superficial. He'd wanted nothing more than to go with John and stay by his side until he regained consciousness, but he knew it was impossible. Still, he had made the doctor promise him to tell John to meet him back at the shore where they first met so they could talk.

He stayed watching the now distant ship for a moment, until he remembered.

Mycroft.

"It was about time. I know you're worried about John, dear brother, but honestly..."

He turned around and came face to face with his brother. He seemed far more relaxed now, and he actually flashed a small smile, before returning to his serious demeanour.

"Are you- How?"

"Apparently, Moriarty's... death broke the curse. I assume the other polyps back at Moriarty's garden have regained their bodies back; I already put some of my people on it."

Sherlock swallowed thickly, and he felt a lump rising in his throat. In other circumstances, he would have felt stupid for reacting like this, but now...

"Mycroft, I-"

"It was incredibly reckless of you to go to Moriarty, Sherlock, I think you know that,” he said harshly. Mycroft evaluated him for a moment, his eyes softening. “However, I can't deny this is partly my fault. It wouldn't be fair to put all the blame on you"

"I don't regret it," he whispered.

"I know." Mycroft breathed out, his expression melancholic. "Let's go back home, for now. We'll finish discussing this later."

-

John slowly blinked himself awake. He let out a groan, his hand shooting up to curl around his left shoulder. He could feel the bandages under his hand, and it took him a few minutes to remember what had happened.

"Prince Watson?"

He turned to look at the doctor, who was smiling gently at him.

John licked his lips and asked in a hoarse voice, "What happened?"

"Well, the... trident, thankfully, didn't go in too deep. We'll have to thank your guards for that, Prince Watson. If they had fired that harpoon a second later... Let's just say there would have been more complications."

The doctor got closer to his bed and grabbed the cup of water on the bedside table, placing it on his lips so he could drink.

"I'm afraid it will leave a scar, however. And you'll be uncomfortable for a few weeks, but you'll make a full recovery," the doctor said.

"Thank you." John licked his lips once again. "May I ask... Do you know what happened with Sherlock? I mean, the-"

"The merman?" the doctor asked, looking amused. "Don't worry, Prince; he's all right. He did ask me how long you were going to be hospitalized. I told him you would have to be monitored for around five or six days, and he asked me to tell you to meet him as soon as you were released."

"Where?"

-

Sherlock laid on a rock, the closest one to the shore he could find. He was quite anxious, he could admit.

He looked down at his tail and ran his fingertips over it, sighing in resignation. He should be thankful for the time he spent as a human, cherish it in his memory, even if he would never be able to go back. He could do that, if John weren't such an important part of it.

He knew they would have to talk about it. Knowing that he may never see him again hurt- but knowing that he _could_ see him often, only to watch his interest fade away over time, until he finally fell in love with someone else? It was unbearable.

"Hey."

He looked up and saw John standing next to him.

"You look exhausted," he said.

"Yes, well. Hospitals do that to you." John's eyes shifted to his tail. "May I touch it?" he asked, hesitantly.

He merely nodded in response. Carefully, John reached out and placed his fingertips on the same spot Sherlock was caressing a moment ago. He closed his eyes, relaxing at John's light touch. A few seconds later, John's hand left his tail, reaching out to cup his face instead.

"Are you all right?" asked Sherlock, pressing a kiss to John's palm.

"Splendid. The guards did a great job at firing the harpoon when they did, otherwise I would have gotten more than a scar and a stiff shoulder." John smiled. "See? I can be smart, too. I knew my plan would work."

Sherlock snorted. "You got lucky." His face turned serious again. "I thought you would die. It would have been my fault, if I hadn't-"

"No, stop right there. It was my idea, Sherlock, and I was well aware of the consequences." He leaned forwards, resting their foreheads together, and he couldn't help but brush his nose against Sherlock's, enjoying the small frown he got in response. "I chose to take the risk, because you're worth it. _We_ are worth it."

He stared at John, a small, sad smile appearing on his face. He pressed a small kiss to the corner of his lips and pulled back, extracting himself from John's hold.

"I should leave."

John shook his head, his eyes pleading. "It doesn't have to end like this. We can-"

"It wouldn't work. You know it wouldn't."

Letting out a harsh breath, John whispered "I love you," and before Sherlock could react, he leaned forwards and kissed him.

A small part of him wanted to push John away, knowing that this would only make their separation more painful, but he dismissed the thought. John was kissing him. He couldn't help but wrap an arm around him, pulling him closer. It wasn't enough; it would never be enough.

Far too soon, they broke the kiss off. John rested his forehead against his, murmuring sweet nothings against his lips, and he simply held on tight, not wanting the moment o end.

Then, with a final, light kiss on John's lips, Sherlock let go.

-

"He seems interesting. For a human, that is." Mycroft said as a greeting.

They were a few meters away from the shore, John's figure still quite visible from their position.

"Yes, well, if it weren't for that human, you would still be a polyp."

Mycroft hummed. "And I wouldn't have been in that situation if someone hadn't made a deal with the sea wizard."

"I'm not going to apologise, if that's what you're aiming for." He would do everything all over again if he had to. It would be worth it.

"I am," Mycroft said quietly.

Sherlock slowly turned to look at his brother, unable to wipe the look of shock from his face.

"I was squeezing too tight," Mycroft said. "I may have gone a bit overboard in my attempt to keep you safe."

"Mycroft-"

"I only want you to be happy, Sherlock. That's all I ever wanted for you."

-

John saw Sherlock go underwater after a few minutes, followed by Mycroft soon afterwards.

He was gone.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, and with a last glance at the sea, he turned around and started to walk towards the castle.

"John."

He stopped on his tracks, but didn't look back. He was obviously hearing things, he couldn't-

_"John."_

He felt a hand on his shoulders and he turned around, coming face to face with Sherlock.

"Your legs are back," he managed to whisper.

"Mycroft," Sherlock said. "He told me... I can stay. If you want."

A small, nervous giggle burst from his lips. "Oh, I don't know. I think I'm having second thoughts," he said, reaching out to caress Sherlock's cheekbone.

"Is that it?" Sherlock's lip twitched upwards.

"Hmm. Quite dangerous to be around you, to be honest. Maybe I should have gone straight to the palace."

"Yet here you are."

John smiled brightly at him, and Sherlock couldn't help but smile back. He grabbed John's hand, entwining their fingers together, and they made their way back to the palace.

-

 _Yes_ , Sherlock thought. _Completely worth it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes:
> 
> Aaaaand, it's done.
> 
> I hope this ending isn't a complete disappointement, and I hope you enjoyed the story. I certainly enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Please, let me know if you see any mistakes. Thank you for reading x


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